


No More Beans

by Gilli_ann



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this light-hearted but heartfelt post canon ficlet, Ennis stumbles upon a new way in life and creates a new carreer for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Beans

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain and its characters do not belong to me, but to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features. I intend no copyright infringement and make no money from this.

**No More Beans**    
   
At first, Ennis was too stunned with grief to do anything except work (like an automaton), eat (poorly), sleep (fitfully) and have an occasional bout of drinking too much beer or whiskey when the thought of Jack became impossibly hard to bear.  
   
The two shirts, two skins in one, Jack’s unexpected gift to him, helped him break that hopeless cycle.   
   
Once the shirts were his to keep and treasure, he became fuelled with the desire to do something for Jack, something worthy in return for the proof of love he had been given. Something to honor Jack’s memory and to keep their shared moments alive, bringing them from the shadows of lonely sorrow into the light of shared joy. Nothing would have pleased Jack more, he was sure.  
   
He swore a solemn oath to Jack one evening in front of the shirts. He wouldn’t give up. He would find the way, and follow it.  
   
Seeking inspiration and possibly even guidance from Jack on how to proceed, he would close his eyes and hold on to the bloodstained plaid and denim, letting the solid and real feel of the fabric bring the long-ago Brokeback summer back to him over the long distances and empty spaces of time gone by. And the shirts did not fail him. One evening in front of the shirts, in the stillness of the night, he saw Jack, plain as day, wearing his sky-blue denim, a mischievous gleam in his equally sky-blue eyes. And he distinctly heard Jack’s voice, loud and clear and forceful: “No more Beans!”  
   
Ennis had found his inspiration. He did not longer doubt what he should do, and he knew Jack would have agreed with all his heart.  
   
The way to a man’s heart, after all, is said to go through his stomach.  
   
It was time to do something about the food situation. Ennis started cooking.  
 

x – x – x

   
He started out small. Bought a big crock full of kitchen utensils and a large set of knives. Stopped nearly every day at the butcher’s and the grocer’s (which luckily wasn’t run by Monroe anymore), snooped around the condiments aisle, visited farmers’ markets and local food stalls. He even bought himself a pair of glasses in order to read recipes!  
   
As soon as each working day at the ranch was done, in the silent evenings alone in his trailer, he would put his many knives to good use: Cutting, slicing and chopping away. Slowly and surely he became a master of bowls and basters, ladles and mashers, peelers and whisks. A veritable connoisseur of flavors, seasoning, marinades and sauces. His little stove was constantly working overtime. His fridge always was close to bursting at the seams.  
   
And with every new ingredient he tried out, with every new course he made, with every new mix and relish, be it salty and spicy or sweet and toothsome, he always thought of Jack.  
   
The question _“Would this one have pleased Jack?”_ was never far from his mind. Jack’s imagined approval was a constant guiding light in his every cooking endeavor, in improving dishes and inventing courses and excelling in finding that elusive and perfectly appetizing combination of tastes and looks and consistency.   
   
For that special and personal Brokeback flavor, he would often add a solid dash or two of Old Rose whiskey.  
   
But beans never made it beyond the very bottom of his list of possible ingredients.  
   
Since he was conducting all his cooking experiments on a private and secret scale, in the solitude of his lonesome plains trailer, he had to be judge and jury of every dish himself. He started to enjoy the food every bit as much as Jack would have. And he sure was getting more than sufficient nutrition by now, was eating both heartily and healthily. It would have been impossible anymore to claim that he was too thin and scrawny, - in fact he was filling out fast. He knew that would have pleased Jack very much, too.  
   
Had someone come by to make a documentary about him during those months of his life, there is no doubt that it would have been dubbed “the gourmet cowboy movie”.

 

x – x – x

 

He invited his two girls and his sons-in-law over for a meal. It is no exaggeration to say that you could have knocked all four of them down with one single basting brush, so surprised were they watching their taciturn daddy prepare and serve the best five-course meal they had ever had or could ever dream to have.  
   
Their praise and incredulous admiration, not to mention the record number of servings and the sheer volume of food that the four of them managed to devour, gave Ennis the confirmation he needed.  
   
He didn’t say much, but his pleased and frequently muttered _“huhs”_ and _“mmmmms”_ betrayed his satisfaction at having come this far. At long last he felt confident enough to share the joy of Jack’s food with other people.  
   
He made the next step; a very modest-looking and small restaurant by an alley in Riverton. Junior agreed to join him in running the place and serving at the tables, and also took responsibility for establishing and maintaining the restaurant’s connection with their main foodstuff supplier - Monroe.  
   
There was nothing fancy about their little place, but they were ready to go into business.  
   
The name sign over the door enigmatically read “No More Beans”.  
   
In order to honor Jack’s wishes and his memory, Ennis had become a true Western entrepreneur - a bona fide Wyoming chef.

 

x – x – x

   
Word of mouth about the superb yet homely and filling food he served ran like a prairie wildfire through the town. The inventive dishes, often mixing local quality meat with enticing international flavors (such as for instance the expertly sliced and grilled Elk a la Tijuana) made people virtually swoon over their plates in sheer sensory ecstasy. During opening hours the restaurant was always full to the rafters, with eager patrons queuing impatiently outside, bellies rumbling loudly in anticipation.  
   
“No More Beans” became an immediate local sensation. The townsfolk were as surprised at Ennis’s skills as his girls had been, shaking their heads wonderingly and muttering that still waters run deep, when they weren’t far too busy stuffing Ennis’s newest dish into their mouth to mutter anything at all.  
   
Ennis had to hire another cook. Jack’s mom, recently widowed, happily accepted the position, thriving for many active years in the warm and homely hustle and bustle over the utensils, pots and pans.  
   
They had to get more help. Ennis expanded the restaurant. Soon he ran several of them, all over Wyoming. They were simple and solid with sparse interior, except for some few select cowboy mementos. The décor always included two cowboy hats next to each other, - one black and one white. This became the restaurant’s token and the chain’s trademark.  
   
“No More Beans” never had to advertise. The food served was its own best promotion. Yet in time, Ennis nevertheless decided on a slogan to grace the front page of the plain-looking menu, under the simple and wistful drawing of a far-off mountain. _“Solid food with a tasty Twist”_ , it said, and no-one ever thought to ask him whether the capital T was a misprint. He wouldn’t have had time to answer anyway, so busy was he, running his Wyoming food empire, planning the menus, and trying out new and tasty dishes and recipes far into each night.  
   
The only thing he always had time for, was thinking of Jack. He never stopped missing Jack. The terrible pain of losing him never eased. Feeling that ever-present sting in his heart, he fervently hoped Jack approved of what he had done in memory of their good times together.  
   
Oh, how he wished that Jack could have been here to relish and enjoy his newest creation, a dessert so delicious it didn’t just melt like a blissfully loving kiss on the tongue, – it practically melted the tongue!  
   
Ennis glanced out the window, noticing the full moon already up and shining in the sky, and pondered what to name this latest culinary miracle.  
   
Perhaps _“A Sweet Life”_ would do. 


End file.
